It pains, my ears, my eyes, my mind
An ache rejuvenating again and again.
It’s the voices, they are close
Or maybe far beyond my reach.
In silence, I can feel their screams, swears
Echoing “you are the cheater”.
I can feel my crimes piercing my heart.
My bronchioles filling up with guilt
And I am suffocating solo.
I wish I could escape into a white cyclone,
Still they might sense my dark shadows.
If I could speak, I would say
I violated the rules of the beasts,
My offences are praised by the dying.
And now, with a blade close to my throat
I still hear the agony of the living,
Haunting voices resonating forever.
I'm a literature student. I live in a countryside close to nature. I love the romantics more than the classicists. And I believe literature helps me to escape from my harsh realities, just like Frost's 'Birches'.